


Compromise

by newlegacies



Series: Road-trippin' [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anyways, F/M, aka where draco and his friends are on a roadtrip, also draco and hermione are a tad bit ooc but i don't think i've made a huge difference, and he meets hermione, and it's like a slow burn type of thing but, but anyways it's just draco trying to stop himself from kissing hermione and then failing miserably, pansy meets harry on this trip but there's literally no mention of that so, roadtrip au, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newlegacies/pseuds/newlegacies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day before he leaves Hermione's waiting for him outside - as per usual - and her arms crossed and a yellow dress is fluttering at her knees. The sun is shining on her and flattering her curves and reflecting off her eyes, and he thinks again about how much he wants to kiss her. </p>
<p>But it’s that fear, that goddamn problem, and it’s holding him back from asking her out, from holding her hand, from kissing her, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he spends one more day looking at her and not being able to do any of those things. It’s frustrating to no end.</p>
<p>So he doesn’t kiss her. Or touch her. And it physically hurts him, if that’s even possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> roadtrip aus hit me hard and I ended up writing this on a whim and here it is. please enjoy.

Draco is eighteen when he decides he needs a girlfriend.

He’s never really thought about needing a girlfriend, not really - his past relationships are short, forgettable flings that he doesn’t really consider to be real relationship-relationships, ones of sneaking into out after midnight and making out on his king sized bed. Oh, yeah, and his one real girlfriend was Astoria Greengrass, which was a one month thing until they decided they’d rather keep being friends, and Astoria was sleeping with Theodore Nott anyways, so it was really no big deal. 

Of course, it’s never been hard to get girls to notice him; after all, his dad is a big-shot senator for Connecticut and Draco and his friends are the typical Rich Kids Gone Bad poster children. (The label is made for the media, who has basically turned Draco’s life into some sort of romanticized bad-boy headline, a type of headline that teenaged girls around the nation swoon over in social networking sites). And Draco is okay with it. Because not having a serious relationship is part of the deal when you're hot mess on television. Because a real girlfriend is something he’s never particularly had or wanted, and he’s perfectly fine being on his own with his best friends all in “real” relationships and he’s fine with it in general.

Except he wakes up one morning and suddenly this occurs to him and he starts thinking about every kiss he's ever had and he realizes that none of them ever meant anything to him. And he'd never stayed up at night thinking about any of those girls he dated and never stressed about what presents to get them. And he hates it but it scares him. A lot. 

And then he meets her. 

-

It happens on a road trip. 

He's been sitting in Pansy's lime green BMW Convertible for around three hours straight with the rest of his friends. They've been listening to Picture Show by the Neon Trees on the CD player on repeat and screaming at each other over the wind. Astoria has brought Theodore Nott over as well and so far Draco's learned that Theo's a) hilariously bad at thinking up adverbs when they're doing Mad Libs: Road Trip Edition and b) knows roughly one hundred ways to say "penis", all in exotic Asian languages. Theo also eats half of their family-sized pack of Cheetos and for the most part is unapologetic about it, which is disappointing, because that's basically the last of the food they have on this car. 

But Draco decides that this trip is the catharsis he needs to take his mind off his problem, and as he sings along to Lessons in Love he shuts down his brain and closes his eyes and leans back in the passenger seat and lets the wind ruffle his already very windswept hair. And that's it. He's done worrying about his ex girlfriends. 

They finally reach a small town somewhere near the coast, and Blaise is apparently "fucking tired of this album", and is off to the nearest convenience store to buy a connector to attach his phone to the car, probably so he can play Save Rock and Roll. Astoria and Theo have gone to the "bathroom" together, and have been gone for quite a while now, and Draco can only assume what's keeping them so long. 

He and Pansy lean against the car together. From his view he can see the coast, and the faint breeze that drifts past him smells of sea salt and warmth. 

Pansy is satisfactory company, making funny remarks here and there and keeping a moderately snarky-funny conversation going. She's been distant lately, getting over her last breakup with some guy named Dan or Dean or something. Draco is sympathetic, but he can't remember a time when he'd ever been hung up over a girl. 

Dammit. There it is again, ever so persistent, and Draco shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He excuses himself when Pansy starts lighting up because he can't stand the smell of smoke and he knows she will offer him a cigarette. He tells her he's going for a walk on the beach and off he goes. 

-

The sand under his shoes makes a grinding noise and he concentrates on it as he walks, farther and farther down south. He's grateful for the lack of company and he walks and walks and walks until he doesn't know where he is anymore. 

He's pretty much lost now. 

And then he sees her. 

She's just walking along the water collecting something that looks smooth and glimmers almost dazzlingly, and she's wearing a peach knit sweater and loose jeans with the pant legs rolled up above her ankles, and her hair is bushy and her figure is slim and her skin looks as warm as the sun. 

He stops and stares at her some more and watches as she picks up another shiny object in the sand and this time she catches sight of him. And he chooses to continue to look at her because her eyes are ones he's never seen before, like somewhere between brown and amber. It's tantalizing and suddenly all those thoughts about his never having a serious girlfriend are back and when the girl's lips curl into that shy smile and she tucks her hair behind her ear -

"Hello," the girl calls, her voice small against the wind. 

Draco lifts his hand in greeting. 

The girl makes her way to him, and as she comes closer he finds out that she's tiny, wow, the top of her head would easily be lower than his chin. The things in her hand seem to be smooth fragments of sea glass, and they reflect the pure blue of the sky. 

"Are you a tourist?" the girl asks Draco. She’s walked close to him now. There's something very matter of fact about her voice, and he can smell the scent of her lotion; lavender. It’s more distracting than it should be.

"Um," Draco says dumbly. 

The girl's lips twitch upward, and her hand sweeps her frizzy hair behind her ear again. The lazy honey of her eyes is dizzying. 

"Are you lost?" asks the girl. She glances down at his attire. "You seem a little confused."

Draco looks down at himself, slightly embarrassed at his choice of clothes; ripped jeans and a thin T-shirt aren't exactly things he would choose to wear in this situation, and even though the sand beneath him is packed hard into the ground he can still feel grains of sand collecting in between his toes. Draco glances down and sees that the girl is wearing a practical pair of Crocs, made of rubber and colored an obnoxiously bright shade of red. 

He rocks back and forth on his feet. "Yeah," he says. 

"Okay. Where do you need to go?"

Draco squirms. He doesn't really remember exactly where he started. 

"Um, just to town, I guess. Near the 7-Eleven?"

"Which one?"

"How many are there?"

There's a slight grin on her face when she replies. "Two."

He almost sighs. "Just the one nearest here, I guess. Back north."

"No problem."

-

They're walking side by side for a while now, until she speaks. 

"Forgot to ask, but what's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

He figures it will be three seconds at most until she figures out that she is walking with the famed Bad Boy of the Century. 

But it's been more than ten seconds before she asks, "You're related to Lucius Malfoy?"

"I'm his son."

The girl is quiet again. 

Draco is sure she'll get it this time. 

"I don't like his political views."

This takes him back by surprise. "Huh?"

"Oh!" she suddenly looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I know he's your dad and all... But he doesn't seem like he'll be helping the nation much, don't you think? I hear he wants to run for president in the future."

"Yeah..." Draco murmurs, stunned. 

"Well, he just doesn't seem fit to lead the country, no offense of course. He's only thinking about benefitting the higher class, which will only ruin our economy even more. And he's a bit of a racist."

Draco is so shocked he can’t speak. The girl's voice still keeps that cool tonality, and the way she speaks to him is casual and unassuming. Her eyes are looking ahead and her hands are swinging by her sides and her sweater ripples in the wind. 

"Uh, yeah," Draco says, and then clears throat. "I mean - yes. He is pretty racist."

"I'm Hermione, by the way," she says, saving Draco from the awkward silence. She looks at him. "Hermione Granger. I live around where we're headed."

"Do you go to college here?"

"No. I live here in the summer and I go to Yale in the fall."

Draco raises his eyebrows, impressed. "What year are you going into?"

"Sophomore."

So she - Hermione - is his age. Nice. "What do you do over here in the summer?"

"Tutor kids in math and intern at a law firm. Not as glamorous as your summers, I assume," Hermione replies. 

"No," Draco agrees, thinking about this summer and this road trip and everything he hopes is going to happen with this girl next to him. "Things always turn up unexpectedly."

-

The next day the group has decided to split up to explore the city, even though it's barely even a town, and there really isn't much to explore except the beach and bus tours, which the girls eagerly pile on to go visit different vintage outlets. Theodore has obediently tagged along, shooting Blaise and Draco a regretful look as he clambers into the bus. Blaise and Draco spend the whole morning eating strawberry gelato they've bought at a rickety gas station and walking by the beach, and even though it's relaxing to hang out with Blaise he can't seem to get her out of his head. 

Yesterday Hermione had given him her number, told him to call her if he wanted a tour of this tiny village. And he'd agreed and folded her sticky note in half and put it in his pocket and it's still here right now, still crisp and unopened. The urge to see her number and call her and talk to her again is stronger than he'd ever imagined and Draco's fingers play with the flimsy paper in his pocket and he can't stop thinking about what would happen if he did call her, if he asked her to show him around. 

But he tells himself, No, this trip is for letting go of that ridiculous fear and saying a fuck you to having a real girlfriend, and he's not even allowed to ask her out, no-damn-way, because she's not his type and he's probably out of her league and besides, she lives in a place called Mystic, for God’s sake. 

But the need to see her again is so overwhelming and he can sense his thoughts going straight to hell and before he knows it he's already excused himself from Blaise and dialed her number and the dial tone of the phone is annoying the crap out of him, why isn't she picking it up -

"Hello?" It's her voice. 

"Hey, it's Draco," he says, swallowing. "I might just take up your offer on showing me around. Does this afternoon sound good?"

-

He's met up with her repetitively in the span of the next few days, and it's better than he imagined it would be. Hermione is funny and smart and being with her is exhilarating, and he's learned so many small, insignificant things that adds up to one big significant thing: her. And it's gotten to the point where he will smile when he thinks about her, and it's embarrassing. 

But anytime he's around her his Problem pops up in his head, practically flashing a red light and shouting Nope! You're not allowed to do this! and another part of his brain is saying, Well, it's not like you're dating her. 

It's so fucking frustrating because there's another part of Draco's brain, in the very back, something is insisting that he wants this. Her. Telling him that he wants to spend all his time with her and buy her gifts and hold her hand and listen to her talk and laugh and maybe even cry, and he wants to kiss her, God, does he wants to kiss her -

No. 

He's not going to let himself do that. 

Draco sighs, startling Theo, who was just about to poke him. 

-

The day before he leaves Hermione's waiting for him outside - as per usual - and her arms crossed and a yellow dress is fluttering at her knees. The sun is shining on her and flattering her curves and reflecting off her eyes, and he thinks again about how much he wants to kiss her. 

But it’s that fear, that goddamn problem, and it’s holding him back from asking her out, from holding her hand, from kissing her, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he spends one more day looking at her and not being able to do any of those things. It’s frustrating to no end.

So he doesn’t kiss her. Or touch her. And it physically hurts him, if that’s even possible.

-

"So is there a reason why you're road tripping to this area of Connecticut?"

It's the last day and they're sitting by the beach together. It's cold and this time Draco is wearing more sensible clothes. The two of them are somewhat pressed together, and the warmth of Hermione’s body heat is comforting and soft. She’d shown him around town and they got fish and chips and took a stroll on the beach, they’re sitting here watching the sunset now, and there are streaks of pink and purple and red in the sky, and it - this - feels like every cheesy romance movie Pansy and Astoria have ever made him watch and his head comes back to that thought again, that thought about girlfriends -

“Draco?”

“Huh?”

Hermione laughs softly. “Why’d you come here?”

Draco looks ahead, trying to keep his train of thought. After a moment, he says, “To escape.”

Hermione doesn’t say From what? or Why? like most people he knows would but presses a little closer to him, which is reassuring and gentle. He watches the fog of his breath expand and fade into the muted colors of the sunset and thinks that this is what he needs, whether he likes it or not.

“Tell about you,” she says, suddenly sitting up straight and looking at him with those sharp eyes, ones that are neither indifferent nor sympathetic. “What’s your life like? Your real one, that is.”

Draco suddenly remembers all the tabloid headlines about him, the ones that broadcasted all of his infamous “stunts”, ones about his abusing his privileged title. “You knew about me?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Who doesn’t?” Hermione says with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you says anything before?”

She hesitates before she answers, and he can see her spindling brown locks of her hair through her fingers. “I didn’t want to know about the person who the nation knew,” she confesses. “I think if you knew that I had heard about what you’ve done you’d probably shut me out.”

It’s odd, but the more Draco thinks about it, it’s true. “You still want me to tell you about what my life is really like?”

“Yes.”

So he tells her about growing up with his father running for senator, living in empty homes with only his language tutor for company, and the pressure of getting A's on every test since the third grade. Then he tells her about turning thirteen and suddenly realizing that almost every kid in America had friends and feeling bitter and frustrated toward his dad, who told him that having friends would only weigh him down from success, and that having people you could trust was not as important as having power. And then Draco talks about Blaise and Pansy and Astoria and the stuff they did and he tells her that all those magazines made a mountain out of a molehill because Draco has only ever gotten drunk twice in his life and he's never done cocaine or meth and hell, he’s never even gone to jail. 

At this point, Draco’s spiel is turning into a mini rant. Hermione is silent the whole time and her face is unreadable, which Draco supposes is a good thing because he’d take unreadable over pity any day of the week. When he finishes, breathing hard, she lets him catch his breath before she speaks.

“Well, you didn’t seem like the type of person who vandalized any property.”

Draco manages a smile. “What gave it away?”

“The media always twists every story they get to attract teenage readers,” she muses, her face serious. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Draco is surprised at the way she says it, like she understands, and he nods slowly, training his eyes on the sunset. She leans into him again and they’re sitting in a comfortable silence, the wind whistling through his hair and dark waves rolling lazily on the gray sand.

“I’m used to it.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“Tell me about your life, then, since I bared my soul to you.”

“Okay,” she says again, and she starts talking.

They way Hermione tells her story - her whole story - is precise. He finds that she'd lived in the poorer area, and that she’s always studied hard because of her near pathological fear of failing. She has two friends, whose names Draco doesn’t catch, but soon he’s swept in the whirlwind of her life, and it’s interesting and exciting and at the same time ordinary and he finds himself listening raptly, his eyes trained on hers, and he finds that the amber of her eyes can turn so many different colors depending on her mood. But the way she tells her story is careful and she gives him just enough details for him to see a lonely six year old, picked on her for skin color and her parents, one being white and the other black. Sometimes she’ll pause and think about whether she’s telling the facts right, and he finds himself almost obsessed with the way the ends of her lips curl upward when she’s recalling a particularly good memory. And all of her words are simple and pleasant but sometimes they’re biting and irritated and there’s a tight feeling in his chest that’s growing stronger by the minute and when she finishes and he stares at her for a minute and he then he leans closer and closer and before can can stop himself he’s kissing her.

It’s warm and soft and it’s like they’re in their own world because he can’t feel the wind anymore and the tightness in his chest simmers into a tingle that runs into his fingertips. And when she pulls away she’s smiling a full smile and the only thought in Draco’s head is that goddamn girlfriend thing and he’s thinking, yeah, this girl is definitely going to cure that problem in his head. Whether he likes it or not. 

He's thinking that he likes it. 

The quiet that follows isn't awkward, it's more like What now? or Can I kiss you again? but she is the one who ends up saying, "Were you planning that?"

"No," Draco breathes. He feels a little lightheaded. 

"Okay. I was hoping you'd kiss me anyways."

He turns to look at her in surprise, and her expression is still the same, cherry pink lips stretched into a smile that makes his heart hammer against his chest. 

"Uh," he stammers, "I wanted to - to do that too."

She's grinning now. 

"Well," she says. "That's relieving."


End file.
